


I'm Not Going Anywhere

by MossGarden



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, and there was only one bed..., raelle is in denial but don't worry they'll figure it out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24706228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MossGarden/pseuds/MossGarden
Summary: The Bellweather Unit is sent out on a simple mission - Locate and secure an abandoned Camarilla campsite in the northern reaches of Canada. Their only problem is that they need a Necro to tag along, and the only one available still hasn't resolved her issues with Raelle.AKA, Raelle and Scylla need to work their shit out. Occurs after the finale; Raelle and Abigail have returned to Fort Salem, Tally's youth has been restored, and the Army and the Spree are working together to defeat the Camarilla.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 72
Kudos: 293





	1. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just a small note, this fic is unrelated to my previous one (but you should definitely still check that out!!). This is my first attempt at a multichap story, and I've planned out 4 chapters. We'll just see where this takes us! comments & kudos are always appreciated, I hope you enjoy :>

The scrape of a whetstone against her knife is calming. One, two, three. The sunlight catches on the blade, flaring and turning the steel golden. Raelle leans back against an old log, losing herself in the repetitive work.

One, two, three. The past few months have been a lot for Raelle Collar. The Witchbomb on its own was like going through hell and back, but the tests that Izadora had run Abigail and Raelle though for days on end had set an exhaustion deep in her bones that she wasn’t sure would ever quite leave.

One, two, three. Seeing Tally with her flush, red hair and her youthful features was a breath of fresh air. Apparently, after they’d returned to Fort Salem, Anacostia had found a much more suitable candidate for the Biddies then Tally could’ve ever been. Raelle hadn’t paid much attention to the details. She was just glad to have her Unit whole again.

One, two- “Hey, shitbird!”

Abigail. She’d been thriving since their admittance into War College, almost singlehandedly pulling their Unit to the tops of the daily rankings in both coursework and deployment. She took each and every one of their assignments seriously, even though most were simply low-risk delivery or reconnaissance missions.

Raelle greets her with a simple “Enjoying Newfoundland?” as she sits down in the snow by Raelle. She leans against the log with a sigh. Raelle pockets the knife and whetstone, opting instead to rest her head against her friend’s shoulder.

“It’s cold as hell,” Abigail snorts, and Raelle cracks a smile. “Pretty nice setup, though, I gotta say.”

She’s right. The army’s scouting camp, while mainly comprised of tents and stake fences, is surprisingly comfortable. Campfires and food supplies are well-maintained, and guard shifts are evenly distributed so that every soldier gets a full night’s sleep.

Raelle finds her fingers digging into the snow, crushing the little crystals between the pads of her fingers. They’re both thinking the same thing.

“You ready to ship out, Rae?”

Raelle bites her lip. “Anacostia said we might find Camarilla agents,” she replies quietly. “I mean, we’re going to scope out one of their old campsites, after all. Are we really ready to go back into an active combat zone?”

Abigail grimaces. “Technically, it’s not like that. We don’t know for sure if any Camarilla are still there. Plus, Quartermaine told us she’d send another soldier along for the ride; someone with more experience.”

Raelle sighs, shaking her head. She can’t shake the old memories from China, all chaos and fire and swords jutting through her shoulder and-

“Hey.” A reassuring arm wraps around her shoulder. Abigail smiles, and Raelle returns it weakly. “It’ll be alright. C’mon, we already shred in Vocal _and_ in Hand-To-Hand. We’ll be fine! Bet you twenty dollars we won’t see a single person in that creepy old forest anyway.”

“No, _you_ shred in Vocal and Hand-To-Hand.” Raelle cocks an eyebrow. “But I’d kick your ass in Scourge Combat and you know it.”

“Maybe so, Collar, maybe so.” They grin at each other for a moment, before Abigail pushes herself to her feet and offers a hand to Raelle. “C’mon, Tally said she wanted to tell us something.”

Raelle clasps her forearm, pulling herself up. “What does Tally know that we don’t?” She asks, voice laced with humor. “Biddy secrets?”

\-----

“Guys!” Tally spots them right as they approach the infantry tents. Raelle raises two fingers in a half-greeting, but drops her hand when she sees the girl’s stern expression.

“Tal?” Abigail tilts her head as Tally skids to a stop in front of them. “What’s up?”

“Okay, I overheard Anacostia talking to another Sergeant and I just wanted to warn you because she’s coming soon to tell you and I wanted to pr-” She gestures wildly, words coming a mile a minute, and Raelle gently grabs her hands.

“Tally. Breathe.” Raelle holds her gaze for a few moments. Tally runs like a freight train when things are urgent. “Tell us what you wanted to say.”

“I-” Tally’s gaze flicks past Raelle, and her eyes widen. “Goddess protect, she’s coming.” She looks back fiercely. “Raelle, when you hear what she says, you _can’t_ get mad, okay? Promise?”

“Bellweather Unit!”

The three jump in near unison and Raelle drops Tally’s hands to turn around and face the hardened voice. Anacostia walks like a model soldier - Chin held high, hands clasped behind her back. Each stride she takes is filled with purpose.

Raelle can feel something wrong, and that fear pricks at her skin like a hundred tiny blades. She frowns with her salute, but Anacostia nods for them to relax in a heartbeat.

“I have an update on your partner for this mission, ladies,” she says, and Raelle glances back at Tally questioningly. She can only shake her head, eyes wide. “I know things may be… Tense, for lack of a better word. However, I’ve talked it over with the other officers and they agree that she’s the best choice.”

Raelle searches her face, a cool mask that refuses to betray emotion. Anacostia looks to Raelle and holds her gaze. “We’ve chosen to send Private Ramshorn along with your Unit. She’ll be arriving shortly, and then you’ll deploy,” she says, and Raelle feels herself freeze.

Scylla Ramshorn. The girl she loved. The girl she still loves.

The girl she thought was gone forever.

The last time they spoke, Raelle told her she wished they’d never met. And now, here she was, about to venture out into a forest likely filled with witch-hunters with Scylla at her side. She’d heard she was alive, knew she was with the Spree cells that had agreed to work with the Army, but here? Now? Raelle shakes her head.

This is unavoidable.

Abigail bumps her shoulder, and she jumps back into the present. “Private Bellweather, Private Craven, you’re dismissed. Go pack. Private Collar, stay for a moment.”

Raelle feels Tally’s hand squeeze her shoulder and watches as the duo walks away. She looks to Anacostia, trying and failing to hide the fear and confusion in her eyes. The Sergeant inclines her head. “Let’s walk.”

\-----

They thread slowly between camouflage-patterned tents and huddles of witches playing cards. Anacostia lets the silence grow between them until Raelle finally cracks, like a twig under a boot.

“Why Scylla? Out of every single person in this entire fucking camp.” Her voice feels rough, and dry, and angry. “You had to pick her.”

“Raelle.” Anacostia’s good at being comforting, far too much than Raelle would care to admit. “It’s okay if you’re scared.”

“I’m not _scared,_ ” she retorts. “I’m just- I’m nothing. It’ll be fine.”

Anacostia raises a single eyebrow, decimating Raelle’s claim instantly. “This mission will be hard for you, but think of it as a chance to mend things with Scylla. You won’t get anywhere by avoiding her.”

“Maybe I don’t want to get anywhere, Anacostia. Maybe there’s nowhere to get.”

Raelle crosses her arms, looking away, and Quartermaine sighs. “I know you’re angry. Just… Give her a chance. She’s trying, too.”

That was too gentle, too tender, and Raelle can’t bite back with anything scalding. Instead, she stays silent, holding her gaze away.

“…You’re dismissed, Private Collar.”

\-----

The smell of pine hangs thick in the air as the party makes its way through the tundra. Tally clutches a compass in one hand, glancing up every so often at the trees. Raelle hangs back, closing her eyes and feeling the slight breeze nip at her ears. She adjusts her pack, a dull and constant weight against her shoulders. The light _crunch_ of their boots in the snow is a calming, regular pattern that lulls her into a sense of peace.

This will be fine. They’ll clear the site, rest for the night, and be back before they know it.

“So, Necro,” she hears, and blinks her eyes open to see Abigail stepping in line with Scylla. “They teach you anything in that creepy old morgue back at Fort Salem?”

Raelle catches a small smirk teasing the corner of her mouth. “All sorts of things,” Scylla replies. “How to turn men into toads and square-dance with the Devil, mostly.” Her voice is coy, but not unkind, and Raelle knows how much Abigail loves a challenge.

“I’m just saying,” she counters, “they don’t usually bring Necros into the battlefield. How come Anacostia insisted you tag along?”

Scylla opens her mouth, but stays quiet for a moment. She was always careful with her words, Raelle thinks, never quite lying. Always telling half-truths. A sharp pang stabs her stomach, and she forces the thought away.

“Izadora’s working on a new type of battle magic,” she finally admits, and Abigail’s eyebrows raise slightly. “I signed up to be her guinea pig. If we happen upon any Camarilla during our adventure, maybe you’ll get to see.”

“Speaking of Camarilla.” Tally looks away from the compass and over to the duo. “I haven’t felt anything out of the ordinary. You guys think they’re actually here?”

“Bad intel, maybe?” Scylla taps a knuckle against her thumb. She glances back to Raelle for only a moment, and Raelle tears her eyes away. She can feel the sting of her gaze, but Raelle is nothing if not defiant, and she looks back to Tally instead.

“Wouldn’t be the first time Alder’s lied to us,” she says bitterly. A heavy layer of silence blankets the group then, and they trudge onwards through the forest. It had been months since Citydrop, but Raelle wasn’t sure if she’d ever forget that day. From the rev of the truck’s engine as it charged at the cadets, to the storm of metal and debris that followed, sweeping across them like hail and thunder. The stern, controlled voice of Anacostia, telling her to search for survivors, echoed in her mind.

_Eliminate any Spree they encountered. Full stop, those were the orders that Sergeant Quartermaine had given._

_Her boots pounded the grass as she spotted movement - A person, scrambling out of the burning wreck and sprinting off. Raelle chased, but her target was hurt, and they weren’t getting far. Raelle had only lost sight for a moment when she rounded the trail and saw her._

_Scylla._

_Her smile was sweet like honey and dripping with poison. Raelle has missed those eyes, deep and blue and everything she’d ever needed. Scylla was tender, and inviting, and for a moment Raelle was tempted to drop her Scourge in the dust and kiss her._

_But it was impossible. It couldn’t be her, not in any world, and there’s something false in her gaze. Something calculating. Raelle shook her head, but Scylla opened her mouth to speak and-_

“Hey, Raelle.”

Raelle flinches as if she’d been struck. Scylla shows her palms, almost instinctively. Her smile is all comfort and warmth and sends a myriad of feelings into Raelle’s heart. Raelle looks away. It’s so much, all at once. It’s too much.

Scylla swallows before trying again. Her fingers brush against Raelle’s bicep, a test of the waters. “What’s bothering you?” It’s as if she’s flipped a switch.

“Do you actually care?” Raelle snaps back, eyes blazing as she swats her hand away. “If I tell you, will that go in a report? Is your boss gonna use that information against me?”

“I just-” She feels a twinge of satisfaction when she sees the hurt that flashes in Scylla’s eyes, and she hates herself for it. Scylla pulls her hand away. “Of course I care,” she says quietly.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Scyl.” Raelle kicks a stray rock, watching it skitter across the snow. “Mission’s over, remember?”

She can feel Scylla’s stare and it burns. She can’t bring herself to meet her gaze. Eventually, the other woman quickens her pace, and Raelle is left alone. She steals a quick glance to Tally, who does her best to pretend that she’s not listening, and then to Abigail, who’s purely tuned into their surroundings.

Raelle sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. They’ll be back before they know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this, and stay tuned for the next chapter, which should be up soon! As always, you can find me @seraappreciationday on tumblr, where I spend my time thinking about glasses!scylla. special thanks to @good-or-bad-luck on tumblr for beta reading every word I wrote :D!!!


	2. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone, welcome back!! so, fun fact, I had nearly all of this written since i posted the first chapter, but was really sticking on the last scene. had a solid breakthrough last night though so here we are!! the good news is that the next chapter's nearly finished. 
> 
> as always, comments are appreciated! please enjoy!

The campsite is small, much smaller than Raelle thought it would have been. It’s a simple log cabin with a cobblestone foundation, resting peacefully near a well-crafted well. The chimney is free of smoke. A small pile of unchopped wood has been laid as a stack against one wall. The door of the homestead faces across the clearing where an ancient, tarnished barn is slowly losing its faded red paint.

“It looks like nobody’s been here for weeks,” Abigail says, frowning, as the group clears the treeline. She takes a hesitant step forward, listening for anything out of the ordinary. All Raelle can hear are birds.

Tally closes her eyes for a moment before nodding. “It’s completely empty, guys. You think we got lucky?” She perks up. “Free base!”

Raelle can’t stop herself from looking over at Scylla. Her brow is furrowed and she crosses her arms, scanning the treeline.

“Not yet, Tal,” Abigail replies. She turns to face the party and catches Raelle’s stare. Raelle can sense the burning scrutiny and she looks back, finding narrowed brown eyes boring into her. “There could still be traps or who knows what. You go with Scylla and search the barn. Raelle -” She makes a pointed look at her - “and I will look around in the cabin. Join us when you know it’s clear, and yell if you need help.”

Tally’s eyes dart from Abigail to Raelle and back again, but she doesn’t say anything, opting instead to smile at Scylla as they begin to make their way across the clearing. Abigail jerks her chin towards the cabin and strides off, forcing Raelle to run to catch up.

Abigail pushes through the door hastily and Raelle grabs her shoulder. “Abigail, what-”

She whirls around right as the door shuts behind them, eyes burning flame. “Listen up, Collar I heard you in the forest. I need you and Necro to fix whatever shit’s going on between you, and I need you to do it _fast._ ”

Raelle knows this anger well, and she bites back a reply. “Yelling at me isn’t gonna solve anything, Bells.” She raises her palms. A peace offering.

Abigail holds her gaze for a few moments, calculating, but then she sighs. “You’re right, Rae. I’m sorry. But I can’t let this knock you off your game. You can’t just brush her off forever, you know.”

A smile quirks Raelle’s lips. “Watch me.”

“ _I’m serious,_ Raelle. We can’t afford to get caught off guard.” She gives her a long, meaningful look. “Work it out.”

With that, she turns and begins to search the cabin. It’s fairly small, as wide as it is long. The floors are of a rich, dark wood, uncovered by rugs or mats. A worn brick fireplace rests to the rightmost wall; a few pieces of chopped wood remain unburnt among the ashes. A grandfather clock stands solidly by the fireplace, well-tuned and ticking away. Abigail wastes no time making her way to the back of the cabin, where a rickety ladder leads up to the second floor.

Raelle works her way through the perimeter of the room, first rooting through the drawers to her immediate left. Kitchen supplies, mostly, and some cans of food that might still be good. She moves to the back of the homestead, where a double-sized bed has been pushed to fit into the corner of the house. The quilt was lovingly made, patterned in lush greens and deep blues. She rifles through the small nightstand beside the bed and finds nothing but a pack of cigarettes and a notepad. Tossing them back into the drawer, she calls out, “seems all clear, Bells, you find anything?”

“Nothing up here, some old crates. Whatever was stored in them is long gone now.” Raelle hears the creak of the ladder as Abigail joins her back on the first floor. She squints at the neat bed, scoffing. “Just one? Really? How many people were even staying here?”

“Maybe they took shifts?” Raelle offered. “I didn’t find a lot of food, so they either took it all and left, or they didn’t need to feed very many people in the first place.”

Abigail shakes her head. “I don’t know about this,” she says. “It just feels too much like a setup. We should take shifts, too, just in case something happens.”

They spent the next few minutes quietly sorting through supplies. They toss out anything old and set the cans of food down in neat stacks on the table. Raelle loves moments like these. When Abigail isn’t busy commanding their Unit or picking a fight, she’s a surprisingly methodical person. They fall into an easy rhythm, passing and trading waterskins and jars until everything has been sorted.

The door opens with a creak and Tally steps into the cabin, dropping her pack by the door. “Nothing in the barn,” she says, disappointment seeping into her voice.

“What were you expecting? A pony?” Abigail’s grin widens when Tally opens her mouth, then closes it.

“…Maybe.”

Scylla slips into the cabin quietly as they continue their banter. Raelle’s eyes follow her, observing her careful movements as she explores the cabin. When Scylla turns and catches her gaze, she jerks away.

They settle into the cabin soon enough. Tally goes through their packs and splits up their rations evenly between the four of them, tearing thick bread into pieces and laying out an orange for each witch. They pull up chairs around the table as the sun begins to set, spilling burnt golden rays through one of the windows.

The meal is eaten in a nearly comfortable silence. When Raelle polishes off the last of her food, she stands abruptly. “I’ll take the first shift,” she announces. “Tally, do you-”

“I’ll come.”

Raelle’s gaze snaps over as Scylla stands as well. She narrows her eyes and Scylla holds her stare defiantly, tilting up her chin.

“Tally’s been Scrying _all day._ Let her rest.”

Raelle, unwilling to break eye contact, finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. She doesn’t want to spend half the night in painful, suffocating silence with her g- with Scylla. But to refuse is to admit defeat, to let her win, to finally acknowledge they have something left to resolve.

Which they don’t, she thinks, biting her lip. A small smile teases the corner of Scylla’s mouth.

Tally, bless her soul, breaks the tension. “Guys,” she pleads, “it’s really fine, I’m sure I can-”

“It’s fine,” Raelle interrupts. If Scylla is surprised at all, she masks it skillfully. Well, challenge accepted. She glances to Abigail, who gives her a quick nod, before jerking her chin towards the door. “Keep up.”

\-----

“There’s a ladder on the side of the barn,” Scylla says as Raelle leads them into the clearing. “We’d be able to see the whole camp from there.”

“...Thanks,” Raelle responds after a moment. She works her way over to the barn, and can just barely make out the rungs nailed to the wall in the darkness. Scylla trails behind, giving her plenty of space.

The rungs are old yet sturdy, and she pulls herself up to the roof in a matter of minutes. She finds a perch at the apex of the shingled roof and settles in, carefully laying her scourge in her lap.

When Scylla hops up beside her, Raelle tenses for a moment, nearly expecting a sly remark, or a pointed comment, or any excuse to keep her walls up for the rest of the night. But Scylla just sits, keeping a comfortable distance away, and gazes out to the horizon.

Raelle allows herself to relax once she’s sure that things will be calm between them. She takes a long, deep breath in, savoring the cold night air, and holds it until the building pressure against her lungs is too much for her. She exhales slowly, letting her heartbeat slow with each passing second.

“The stars are beautiful tonight.”

Raelle is silent. She waits for a follow-up, waits to see if Scylla’s just saying this to get her into a conversation that she doesn’t want to have. But Scylla isn’t even looking at her. Raelle glances over and sees her chin tilted up to the heavens, gaze solely fixated on the lights delicately dusting the dark sky.

“We’re supposed to be watching for Camarilla, not stars,” she replies drily, forcing her vision down to the treeline. The forest may be still, but who knows what’s out there, waiting for her to lower her guard, waiting to-

“Just because we’re at war doesn’t mean we can’t still see the beauty in the world.”

When Raelle looks back, Scylla is staring straight at her with those piercing blue eyes. Suddenly she’s frozen, caught like a deer in the headlights. Scylla looks at her without anger or expectation, but instead with open curiosity. Scylla was never hard to read - at least, Raelle used to think so - and it feels no different now.

Raelle licks her lips quickly before glancing up into the sky. Scylla’s right. The stars, brightly shining down to Earth, are unobscured by haze or clouds. She hasn’t seen such a clear view of the Milky Way since her Cession days; Fort Salem has too much light pollution for anything more than a few bright specks. 

Instinctively, she begins pinpointing constellations. Callisto, Orion, Big Dipper. Familiar patterns she hadn’t realized she’d lost. She’s always felt so small looking up at the sky, comparing herself to the dark vastness of the universe. Raelle finds herself lost in the stars, swept up by the light.

And then Scylla clears her throat, and she’s suddenly yanked back down to Earth. She giggles lightly as Raelle feels her face flush red. Goddess, she can feel herself getting more vulnerable by the minute, and she’s almost afraid. Scylla’s lied to her before, _hurt her_ before, and Raelle wishes she could resist that light laugh, those stunning eyes, that subtle insight. Scylla knows her far too well for her to ever really push her away.

“You don’t have to forgive me.”

Scylla’s soft voice interrupts Raelle’s thoughts and she nearly jumps, glancing back. She’s fidgeting with her hands like she always does when she’s nervous, but she holds Raelle’s gaze all the same.

“I know that what I did was…” She bites her lip, searching for the right words. “Inexcusable,” she finally settles on. “I want you to know that I’m sorry for what I did. You deserved so much better than what I gave you.”

Raelle frowns, brow furrowed. She was going to toy with her, Raelle thinks hesitantly, she was going twist up her words again and Raelle was going to feel angry and guilty like she did with Anacostia, or even Abigail.

“...But?”

“No buts,” Scylla replies with a twinge of sadness. “That’s it. It’s not my place to ask you for anything anymore. In the end, it’s up to you to choose what you want.”

She doesn’t expect this kind of tenderness from Scylla anymore, and it surprises her, like biting into a sour fruit. “I don’t know what I want,” she manages to reply, and it’s a stupid answer. She knows exactly what she wants, exactly _who_ she wants. But she shouldn’t. She should be angry and defensive and she should be snarling at Scylla like a wild wolf.

She’s just tired now. Tired and lonely.

“That’s okay,” she hears Scylla say quietly. “You don’t have to right now.” She settles back against the roof with a sigh, and Raelle feels as if a door has just been closed.

They fall into a comfortable silence as Raelle pushes the rest of her messy thoughts away and focuses purely on the endless pines. The night gets colder and the moon gets brighter, crawling slowly up to the apex of the boundless sky. The forest is so quiet that Raelle begins to wonder if maybe Scylla was right - perhaps the Camarilla had left this site long ago, and their intel was simply old rumors.

Raelle feels the frozen wind in her bones, and thinks of the Cession. Winters were bitterly cold, yet full of life. On particularly snowy days, when teachers either canceled class or didn’t care enough to keep their students in, she’d go walking wherever her feet took her. The cold would always turn her nose red and her breath into ice, but she didn’t mind.

The lake was always so beautiful frozen over. Raelle never had the dexterity for ice skating, but she could usually snag a game of ice hockey with some other local kids. Not her friends - she was too much of a social outcast for that - but kind acquaintances, who might not respect her witch genetics but sure as hell would respect her ability to check and score.

Then there were quieter days, when the lake was deserted and every car was covered with a thin layer of snow. Raelle loved those moments, where she could sit on a rickety swing and watch the sun drip below the horizon. She’d sit into the long hours of the night, trailing after any thought her mind led her to. 

She used to spend every day thinking of running away from that dusty old town with nothing but a backpack and a wallet full of cash. She’d dream of catching a Grayhound off to sunny California, or maybe the big cities in Texas, or even up north to Canada. And yet, despite all her wishing and dreaming, Raelle can’t help but miss the Cession. She hasn’t been home in so long.

“Raelle?” She feels a slight nudge on her shoulder. Scylla nods back towards the homestead, already angling herself to clamber back down the ladder. “Our shift’s up. Let’s go wake the others.”

Raelle follows her companion after hoisting her scourge over her shoulder, swiftly descending back down to the snowy earth. Together they make their way back to the cabin. She finds herself much more relaxed than she was compared to when they’d first taken up their post. Either that, or exhaustion has set itself in too far for her to care about anything beyond a warm bed. They slip quietly past the door; Raelle catches it a split second before it hits the doorframe, and gently sets the lock.

Abigail is already up, stretching her arms as Tally groggily rolls out of bed. “It’s so early,” she complains, and Abigail rolls her eyes. She ruffles Tally’s messy hair before shouldering her own scourge and pulling her up to her feet.

“It’s not that bad,” she replies fondly, “I bet you’re just used to sleeping in on that matrilineal compound, or whatever.”

“Matrifocal,” Tally grumbles, rooting around in their pile of bags for her boots. 

The two witches give Raelle and Scylla nothing more than a small greeting, as if they were strangers passing each other on a long road. As they leave the cabin, Raelle sets her scourge on the table before doffing her boots and coat. She tucks herself under the quilts of the double bed, pressing herself close to the side of the wall. She feels the mattress shift as Scylla follows her lead, and for a moment Raelle’s worried that things might be awkward. But Scylla leaves plenty of space between them, and Raelle feels exhaustion tugging her eyes closed in a matter of minutes.

“Good night, Raelle,” she hears Scylla whisper into the dark, and she mutters a quiet response. Sleep envelops Raelle like a thick coat of snow, and she slowly sinks into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if the ending was a little weak, hopefully the rest of the chapter makes up for it!
> 
> thank you once again to the lovely @good-or-bad-luck on tumblr, who's endless insight has saved me many times. you can find me on tumblr @seraappreciationday. see you soon!!


	3. Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back, y'all! so, this chapter's a bit shorter than usual, but i really wanted to isolate this scene from other ones. the next chapter will be a good amount longer, though, for fun reasons >:D i hope you enjoy, and don't be afraid to leave a comment!!

_It’s China all over again, but twisted, distorted, burning with a hatred she’d never felt before. The world is hot and red and dusty and she can barely see anything through the clouds of magic and sand. The air is thick with the smell of blood and burning flesh and she’s never felt fear so pure, so strong, and-_

_Suddenly there’s a piercing, flaring pain in her heart, spreading across her body like birds taking flight. It’s a sword, a hundred swords, tearing through her chest, and everything burns like fire and Tally’s screaming her name. The sound echoes in her skull and it’s so loud, sweeping over her like a tidal wave. It’s so much, everything is so much all at once, and-_

_Smog fills the air, fills her lungs, and she can’t breathe, it’s like her ribcage is being clawed over and over and everything hurts so, so much, and she just wants it to end, and-_

Raelle’s eyes snap open and she gasps.

She shoves herself up violently into a sitting position, feeling her heartbeat like a wild drum under her ribcage. Her breath is harsh and erratic. She can still feel the remnants of the dream, the fear and panic spilling into cracks of her mind-

_Blood and fire and chaos and smoke consuming her, sweeping her up in a primordial storm, ripping her apart-_

No. It’s okay. She’s safe. She’s not in China anymore, she’s with her Unit. It’s okay.

She slows her breathing down, matches the rhythm to the ticking of the grandfather clock. Calm and reliable. Her heartbeat slowly begins to relax as well, gradually coming down from the racing panic it had been set in before. Once Raelle is sure she feels steadied, she blinks to adjust to the darkness and looks around the room.

The room is illuminated with only a slight shaft of moonlight streaming through the windowpane. The cabin is completely still, aside from the ticking clock. At first, everything seems quiet. Even the forest outside seems quelled by a greater hand; no owls hoot and no wolves howl. It’s like the world’s been frozen in time.

And then she hears the sobs.

Scylla is in bed beside her, turned towards the center of the room. She’s tightly curled in on herself, as if to shield herself from some invisible enemy. She looks small. So, so small. She whimpers quietly, shoulders shaking, and Raelle feels her heart break in two.

“Scyl? What’s going on?” She keeps her voice gentle and low, careful not to startle her. She reaches out across the space between them with her left hand, but freezes right above Scylla’s bicep. Instinct combatted by fear.

Scylla flinches, trying and failing to steady her breath. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’ll be quieter.”

_Oh, no, darling._

Raelle feels her heart cry out, and curses herself for it. Goddess, she wished she didn’t care about Scylla like she still does. She’d raised her walls up high, rebuilt them brick by brick, and did her best to shut Scylla out at the castle gates.

But despite everything, she couldn’t block out that little twinge of emotion.

“Scylla…” Raelle takes the leap. Her fingertips brush against Scylla’s upper arm and she feels her tense against the touch. “I’m here. If you want me.”

Scylla relaxes slowly, carefully, and gives an almost imperceptible nod. Raelle’s hand travels down her bicep and creeps across her stomach. She presses herself against Scylla, cocooning her against the cold. Her chin slots into the gap between Scylla’s shoulder and neck like they were made to fit together.

If Scylla were a statue, she thinks, then Raelle would’ve been carved to match. She would’ve held her for thousands of years, and never once pulled away.

It’s this moment that Raelle remembers just how much she’s missed her. Missed the lavender scent of her hair and her soft skin and her steady-beating heart. Raelle’s missed her touch, her warmth, her presence. Raelle’s missed everything about her.

Scylla whispers into the darkness, and Raelle is brought back down to Earth. “I just had a nightmare,” she confesses, “that’s all.”

_Night terrors. Old ghosts returning to haunt the living._

_Raelle learned not to pry early on, learned not to pick at Scylla’s slow-healing wounds. She’d jolt awake at the darkest hours of the night, a cry of pain or fear on her lips, salty tears wetting her cheeks. Raelle would always ask, and Scylla would never tell. So she held her instead, kept her warm and safe in her arms, traced patterns on her skin and pressed delicate kisses to her forehead until she could sleep again._

_In the morning, Scylla would brush it off as if nothing happened. She’d tell Raelle that she had bigger things to worry about, like making it to inspection on time or keeping Abigail off her back during Hand-To-Hand. Raelle let her go, gave her as much time as she needed._

_She didn’t pry. She never pried._

Raelle still doesn’t pry, but she cares too much not to knock.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Scylla’s breath catches, and for a moment Raelle thinks she’s misstepped, she’s crossed an invisible line, and Scylla will push her away and she’ll lose her again-

Soft fingers tangle themselves in her own, squeezing her hand gently. It’s okay. They’re okay.

The room was quiet for a few minutes, Raelle finds herself content to stay there and keep Scylla close to her, whether she spoke or not. When Scylla clears her throat, Raelle’s content with that too.

“I was sixteen.” Scylla speaks quietly, like her voice is made of porcelain, like it might crack and shatter. Like _she_ might shatter. “My family and I were passing through the Cession, just for the fall. I was in the garage when-”

Scylla freezes again. She steadies herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she lets out a shaky breath. “The first thing I heard was their boots. I heard our front door get kicked open, and I heard them running into our house. That’s when I knew the Army had finally found us.”

Raelle can feel her begin to tremble. Scylla’s grip on her hand turns into a lock, anchoring her in place.

“My dad was begging for his life when they shot him. I could hear my mom scream his name, and they shot her too. I had to-” she grits her teeth, hard enough to be painful - “I had to cover my mouth and stay quiet. So they wouldn’t hear me. In the end, they didn’t even look in the garage. They just left.” She swallows thickly, swallows her grief and fear. “They left me alone.”

Her hand relaxes, and she brushes Raelle’s thumb with her own as if to apologize. She can’t quite quell her tremors, though, and the occasional sob still wracks her shoulders.

“Scyl,” Raelle asks carefully, “Was that a nightmare or a memory?”

“...They were good people, Rae. They didn’t deserve to die.”

“Goddess protect,” she breathes. “I’m so sorry.”

Scylla turns over in her arms, burying her nose in the crook of Raelle’s neck. This is all so familiar, Raelle thinks as she automatically tangles her free hand in Scylla’s dark hair. Scylla clings to her like a lifeline in the dark.

“Some days,” she whispers, “I don’t care about the Spree, or the Army, or any of it. I just want them back.” Her tears are hot and stick to Raelle’s skin. “Some days, I miss them so, so much. It’s like someone tore a hole in my chest.”

Raelle caresses her back and thinks of her mother. She remembers the bowerbird charm her father had pressed into her hand, the thing that couldn’t save her. She remembers tracing a hand-inked sigil on a yellowed letter, trying to find the answer to an impossible question, _why_. “I understand,” she says into the crown of Scylla’s head. “I know it doesn’t go away. I wish I could make it better.”

“Just-” Scylla sniffs. “Please don’t leave. I need you here.”

And Raelle had never felt such a strong need to _protect_ someone, to hold them close to her heart and not let go, then at that precise moment.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she answers, and knows it’s the truth.

Raelle keeps that promise for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!!!! as always, you can find me @seraappreciationday on tumblr, where i act as a prominent scylla ramshorn apologist. endless love to @good-or-bad-luck for beta reading all my fics, i wouldn't be anywhere without him <3


	4. Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, guys, and sorry this chapter's running so late!! my writing juice has been running dry for the past week :( we're in the home stretch, though, and I'm not giving up! this story started off being just for me, but it's for you guys too, now, and I'm gonna give you the ending you deserve.
> 
> on another note, this chapter's a bit of a flex of my writing muscles. I've never really written action before so we'll see how this goes! as always, I hope you enjoy, and don't be afraid to leave a comment!! much love to all the regulars, you guys make my day :D

It’s been a long time since Raelle’s woken up to Scylla in her arms.

Early-morning sunlight dapples her dark hair, which tangles and curls around her ears and chin. Her breaths, coming and going in soft bursts, are warm against Raelle’s bicep. Raelle looks at her, takes in her long eyelashes and the gentle slope of her nose and the quiet peace in her sleeping form, and is overcome. She’s not sure with what, exactly, but it’s a feeling in her chest that ties knots in her heart and squeezes her until she thinks she might break.

Scylla stirs, nestling into Raelle’s chest and sighing quietly. She feels so warm, and safe, and Raelle hasn’t felt this calm in a long time. Scylla’s her anchor, her home. She’s here, at this moment, and Raelle wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else.

Suddenly, as if a sleeping spell has been lifted, Scylla inhales sharply and her eyes blink open. Her gaze flicks up to meet Raelle’s, and she smiles softly. That damned smile, she thinks. She’d walk through fire and rain for that smile.

“Good morning,” she mumbles, tugging a grin to Raelle’s lips. Scylla’s fingertips drift to her cheek, her touch feather-light as she traces the sharp curve of her jaw before moving up to her scar. Scylla touches her gently, as if she’s a piece of art, something to be revered. Sparks of electricity mark the path that she draws on her skin.

“Feeling better?” Raelle asks, and a smirk quirks the corner of Scylla’s mouth.

“Very much so,” she responds, cocking an eyebrow. “You Fixers sure know what you’re doing.”

Scylla cups her cheek and Raelle covers her hand with her own, twining their fingers together. The smile slowly slips from her face, dark blue eyes shifting to something else - something careful and calculating.

“What’s up, Scyl?”

Raelle doesn’t miss Scylla’s quick glance to her lips - barely a fraction of a second, but the moment slips away. She finds the girl’s fingers tracing down her throat before playing with the collar of her shirt.

“I’ve just missed you, is all,” she says quietly. Raelle swallows. Scylla is close, much closer than she had realized. Raelle props herself up on her elbow and lets the other girl tug her forward. She can feel her breath against her cheek. Goddess, her eyes were so intoxicating, bright and blue and always hinting at some subtle mischief.

“I’ve missed you too,” is all she can say, breathlessly, and then Scylla’s pulling her in and-

“Morning, shitbirds!”

Scylla _shoves_ her shoulders back and nearly tumbles onto the floor. Raelle looks to the door to find Abigail with her eyebrows pricked up, and Tally trying her best to hold back a laugh.

“Oh my Goddess, are we interrupting something?” Tally’s voice is a pitch higher than Raelle thought was known to man.

“Try not to squeal too hard, Tal,” she responds, pinching the bridge of her nose as Scylla begins to snicker. “You’re not interrupting anything. Goddess protect.” She can feel a blush creeping across her face; the embarrassment just might be enough to kill her.

Thankfully, Tally stops her aggressive grinning, and Raelle is left to get ready for the day. She crawls out of bed after Scylla, hissing through her teeth as her feet hit the wooden floor. “Fuck, it’s cold,” she mutters under her breath.

Raelle pulls her boots on quickly, catching the granola bar Tally tosses her out of the air with one hand. She watches as Scylla lifts her pack from the floor and follows her gaze over to Abigail, who’s staring the other girl down. Scylla throws Abigail a wink. Abigail shakes her head.

\-----

“Don’t you hear that?”

Raelle tilts her head. The forest is silent, aside from the rustle of the breeze and the group’s boots crushing the snow underfoot. She shrugs. “Seems all quiet to me.”

“That’s my point,” Scylla replies, pursing her lips. “There should be birds singing. At the very least, we should be able to hear _some_ type of movement.”

“Actually, yeah.” Tally falls back from her regular position at the front of the group. “How long has it been so quiet? We’ve only been traveling for…” She frowns, thinking hard. “A few hours?”

Raelle looks from her, to Scylla, and back again. She didn’t feel the unrest before, but it practically radiates off of their group now. “Do you think something’s up? Tal, can you see anything?”

Tally shakes her head without even vocalizing or pulling out her scry. “I’ve been looking for anything unusual since we left,” she explains, “but I’m drawing a blank. It seems like nothing’s there. Nothing close, anyway.”

“Hey, High Atlantic!” Raelle raises her eyebrows as Scylla calls back to Abigail, who’s been staying a few paces back. She looks up sharply, fully prepared to snap back at the old nickname, and Raelle gets ready to defuse a fight. “What should we do?”

If Abigail is surprised at the sudden trust, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she thinks for a moment before speaking. “We’re only an hour or two from the base,” Abigail says as she waves her hand at the surrounding woods. “I think we should keep our guards up, but that’s no reason to stop moving. This forest has seemed off from the start, but -” she nods at Tally - “if our girl says we’re clear, then we’re clear.”

Scylla nods, accepting the answer, but Raelle doesn’t miss the way Abigail’s hand falls to the grip of her scourge as she gives the trees another once-over. Raelle looks out into the forest once again, and finds nothing but snow and pines.

\-----

The group trudges onwards, keeping a little closer together than they were before. It’s another thirty minutes before the unease sitting in Raelle’s stomach is nearly too much to bear. 

“I’m really not sure about this anymore,” she mutters into Scylla’s ear. “You were right, earlier. Something seems _wrong._ ”

Scylla gives her a warm smile, placing a hand on her bicep. “It’ll be fine,” she tells her, and the reassurance in her voice is almost enough to make Raelle really believe her. “Tally knows what she’s doing. If there was anything out there, we’d know about it.”

Raelle hums, reluctantly agreeing, but she can’t shake that feeling. She may have been the lowest-scoring cadet in their scrying lesson, but that didn’t mean she lacked good, old-fashioned gut instinct. And her gut was telling her that they weren’t alone. She could feel the hidden eyes boring into her, but the forest seemed so empty all around and-

“Wait, stop!” Tally holds up a splayed hand, and the group freezes in their tracks. Raelle’s hand drops instinctively to her scourge as she scans the treeline. It’s hard to make out anything moving, however, and she looks back to Tally expectantly.

Raelle counts her heartbeats as Tally waits, whispering silent Seeds with her eyes squeezed shut. Raelle feels her breath spill out in measured, frosted exhales. Scylla shifts anxiously on her feet beside her, her combat boots grinding into the snow underfoot. 

A sudden _snap_ of a branch shatters the silence and Tally yells, “they’re in the trees!”

Four men drop down from the sky like fallen angels, and suddenly the group is surrounded. They draw cruel, sharp blades from worn leather scabbards and descend upon them like a pack of wolves.

Chaos.

Abigail is the first to react. She blocks a heavy slash from one man’s blade with her taut scourge before Windstriking him in the chest. He slams into the thick trunk of a pine tree, groaning in pain as Abigail spins to duel a second agent. She fights like a well-timed clock; every step and strike, a precise technique. She’s quick and mechanical and unrelenting, driving the Camarilla back with each honed attack.

Raelle twists just as the third agent leaps at her. The light catches against his curved sword and for a moment Raelle hesitates - she remembers the bloody blade piercing through her shoulder, remembers the cold, numb sensation spreading through her bones - but Tally’s there, slamming into the man with her shoulder. She calls out, “get Scylla!” before dodging another metallic swipe.

The last Camarilla is smarter than the others, Raelle notes as she spots him crouched against a tree. He’s stayed quiet as he flanks the group, picking out a target - Scylla, who’s gaze darts nervously across the battlefield. She whispers the beginning of a silent song under her breath, tracing complex runes in the air as she takes slow steps backward.

Back towards the last agent’s tree.

She’s never run so fast, sprinting towards the agent just as he dashes out from behind the trunk. She sees Scylla spin at the last second, eyes wide as the song dies in her throat. Raelle Windstrikes the man with more power than she’s ever felt in her _life._

The agent goes flying off his feet, skidding a deep gouge into the snow. He whimpers, rubbing his head, and Scylla delivers a swift kick to his skull. The man goes silent. Raelle breathes heavily, feeling her heart pump in her throat.

“Whoa,” Scylla says as she looks back, a little startled. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Raelle responds breathlessly, waving it off. “Do your thing. I’ll cover you.”

Scylla opens her mouth to speak, but thinks better of it and gives her a sharp nod before ducking behind the same tree the agent hid behind. Raelle lets out a sigh of relief as she begins her song again, looking up to scan the fight.

Tally’s holding her ground well, fighting defensively against her agent. She blocks his quick attacks and uses her body - all shoulders, elbows, and knees - to keep him at bay. On the other hand, Abigail’s back to fighting two soldiers at once, and Raelle can see the fog puffing from her mouth as she pushes herself to the limit fending them off. She draws her scourge, about to run to her aid, when suddenly Scylla’s voice rings clear in her ears.

“Raelle, watch out!”

Raelle spins on her heels as a heavy _thud_ shakes the earth behind her, and comes face to face with the largest man she’s ever seen.

A studded leather tunic is strapped tight around his torso, worn and tattered from countless battles, and he carries nothing in his giant hands. He has no sleeves, she notes, likely to give him as much movement as possible. The Camarilla’s arms are made of pure, corded muscle, and crisscrossed with easily a dozen scars. He rises to his feet, staring her down with dark eyes from under a black cowboy hat. Raelle adjusts her grip on her scourge, plants her heel with a soft _crunch_ in the snow behind her, and tenses.

He throws a _fast_ right hook, faster than Raelle is expecting, and his knuckles hit her skull like a freight train. The force throws her to the ground as stars dance across her vision. Raelle, ribs aching, barely manages to roll out of the way as a heavy boot crushes the snow where she was lying moments earlier. She scrambles to her feet and stumbles backward, tasting iron and snow on her tongue. The man turns to face her once more as a harsh grin creeps across his face.

“Not quick enough,” he rumbles in a guttural voice before lunging at her. She’s ready this time, ducking under his arm and dashing past him. She pivots, her scourge spinning in the air, and she swings the edge down with a _crack_ against his back. It’s a practiced, powerful maneuver that Anacostia herself would’ve commended. He takes the hit like it’s nothing.

The Camarilla turns and laughs. Raelle’s heart is racing, and her breath comes out in ragged gasps. She winds up for another strike, but her lungs are screaming for air and she can feel how weak the blow is as she sends her scourge sweeping forward.

The man catches the tip in his hand and Raelle knows, at that moment, she’s done for.

He yanks back on the weapon and she’s pulled forward by the sheer strength of the pull. Her momentum carries her into a sharp knee jutting into her stomach, and the air is shoved violently out of her lungs. She’s still gasping for air when he lifts her up by the front of her jacket and tosses her across the snow like a discarded doll.

“Foolish little girl.” The man’s boots are heavy against the ground as he strides forward. Raelle groans, propping herself up on her elbows. Her scourge is gone. The smell of pine mixed with blood is an odd sensation, she thinks as she spits red. He grabs her collar again and she thrashes her limbs wildly, trying to get free as she feels her body leave the ground. “You are nothing,” he growls into her ear, huffing hot breath against her cheek. “You are dirt under my boot. I will break your bones in my hands.”

He slams her against a thick pine tree, and Raelle feels a rib crack. She cries out as pain blooms all across her body. Where was her Unit? Blood rushes in her ears; all she can hear is the faint sounds of fighting, and the Camarilla’s angry, rough breath, and-

A song.

So quiet, she could barely hear it before. But it’s growing, strong and sweet, until even the agent holding her up relaxes his grip slightly as he turns to look. Raelle seizes the opportunity. She sends a sturdy kick into his stomach and he drops her with a shout, doubling over.

As she tumbles to the ground, she catches a glimpse of the singer. It’s Scylla, hands spread wide as she channels some deep power through her voice. As the song intensifies, something in her begins to shift and change. Her white teeth taper and grow, and her blunt nails turn black as they sharpen to a deadly point. The color in her eyes, rich and blue like the sea, slowly fades. Dripping into its place is a harsh blood red.

This is magic unlike anything she’s seen before, and it twists and beats with cruel power. Raelle is terrified. As she steps forward slowly, the Camarilla agent steadies himself, preparing for a fight. She flexes her claws, and the song turns into a nightmarish scream.

Scylla leaps forward with inhuman speed, crashing into the Camarilla with a shriek. Yelling, the man stumbles and falls, and Scylla tears into him like a wild animal. Raelle takes the opportunity, scrambling to her feet and darting away. Scylla buries her claws into him and tears them away again and again, spattering the white snow with deep red blood. She’s screaming like a banshee, and Raelle almost wants to pull her away.

Almost.

Tally, only slightly scratched, runs up to her as Abigail sends the last of the three men to the ground with a heavy kick to the solar plexus. “What’s happening?” She puts an arm around Raelle’s shoulder, letting her lean heavily into her. “Is she alright?”

Raelle can only shake her head wordlessly and shrug. She watches as the man weakly pushes at her shoulders in a desperate attempt to block her frantic attacks. Scylla doesn’t let up, hitting him again and again until he finally goes limp.

“Raelle.” Abigail, pressing the heel of her palm to a nasty cut on her cheek, stumbles over to the rest of the group. “No offense, but what the _fuck_ is wrong with your girlfriend?”

Scylla stands slowly, still facing away. Despite Tally’s grunt of protest, Raelle shifts her weight off the other girl and takes a few cautious steps forward. _Something_ isn’t right with Scylla, but she has no idea what.

“...Scyl?” Raelle reaches out to her, fingertips brushing her shoulder, and Scylla spins around so _forcefully_ that she nearly trips on her own feet stumbling back.

Her face and hands are spattered with blood that isn’t her own. Her eyes are still that dark, blood-soaked red. Scylla looks like she’s just stepped out of Hell and laughed the whole way through.

And then Scylla lunges at her, claws glistening.

She’s quick, but Raelle’s quicker. She grips Scylla in a tight bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides as she thrashes. “Hey, hey,” Raelle says into her ear, doing her very best to keep her voice level. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s okay.” Gradually, Scylla’s hot breath begins to slow, and she relaxes into Raelle’s arms.

“I…” Scylla’s voice shakes slightly and Raelle loosens her vice-grip around her arms, opting instead to pull her close in a gentle embrace. “I didn’t think it would be so intense.”

“Oh.” Raelle isn’t looking at Abigail, but she can hear the lightbulb go off in her head as she speaks. “This is Izadora’s creepy new Work, right?”

Scylla scoffs into Raelle’s shoulder, still in a battle of wit with the Bellweather despite barely being able to stand. “It’s not creepy,” she huffs, “it’s Necro. I’d be happy to explain the finer points when -” she takes a break to breathe - “When I’m not about to collapse. Thanks.”

The adrenaline’s filtering out of Raelle’s system, and the ache in her ribs returns with a new ferocity. “Hey, Bells,” she says, flinching, “can you-”

Abigail’s already there, slinging Scylla’s arm around her shoulder and shifting her weight off of a grateful Raelle. Her head is still swimming, and she only manages to take a few wobbly steps before Tally’s holding her up again.

“If any more Camarilla show up, we’re totally fucked.” Raelle winces as she laughs.

“Let’s not think about that, Rae,” Tally responds. She inclines her head to the forest beyond, and slowly but surely, the group begins their journey back to base. “We’re not far from home.”

\-----

Raelle’s not sure when she passes out, but the next time she opens her eyes it’s to an obnoxiously bright fluorescent lamp above her. She groans, raising up a forearm to block out the light. Slowly, she checks each one of her arms and legs. Everything’s still working, she thinks with a sigh of relief.

Once her eyes have gotten used to the glaring light, she takes a look around. She’s situated in a standard military bed, in a row of about four others - all empty - just like it. The walls and ceiling are made of tarp, she notes; she must still be at the Newfoundland camp. Aside from the buzz of the lights and the faint sound of officers shouting orders outside, all is quiet.

Raelle props herself up on her elbows, expecting pain in her ribs. Nothing. She gingerly touches her side, expecting to feel tender bruises, but it’s as if nothing had ever happened to her.

A sudden shift in the tarp shatters the delicate silence and Raelle’s gaze snaps over to the far end of the tent. A woman steps through the makeshift door, scanning the beds before locking eyes with Raelle. The breath dies in her throat.

“Scylla?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for beating the shit out of Raelle!!! In my defense, it was fun to write. you can come to yell at me in the comments or @seraappreciationday on Tumblr. as always, endless love to @good-or-bad-luck, who's the only one stopping me from writing "well", "glance", and "breath" six times in a paragraph. see y'all soon!


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